Here In Your Arms
by Emily Darcy
Summary: One- shot, set in the begenning of Catching Fire. "The face I see is the only one that could bring me comfort at that moment – the only person who was there in the arena with me, who know exactly what I went through." Please read and review?


Chapter One

I was in the arena yet again, hearing a scream bouncing off the trees and echoing across the seemingly empty forest. And I immediately knew it was Rue.

I set off running in her direction, my bow in my hand, ready to kill whoever was making her scream such agonized, bloodcurdling screams. I run past trees and plants as if I'm in an old cartoon, the background moving while I stand still.

My feet can't move fast enough, and Rue screams again. I trip on something – a rock, perhaps – and I frantically pull myself up, stumbling through the forest in a blind frenzy to save Rue – the girl so like my own little sister.

And, suddenly, I find her. She's in a clearing, lying on the ground, an arrow through her stomach. I watch a rose suddenly appear on the front of her shirt, and I stare at it, wondering what's going on. She looks down at it, too, her eyes wide, her skin a pale, grayish color. And suddenly, I understand. The rose is Rue's blood, flowering out of the wound in her stomach. She is dying, right here, before my eyes.

She looks up at me, and for a moment, her eyes are not her own – they're the sparkling blue of my sister, Prim's. And then a shout falls from her lips, but the world is still silent, as if the sound couldn't make it to my ears, and then Rue falls forward. A cannon fires, and I feel like screaming, but I can't find my voice. I want to run to her, to make her come back to me, but my feet are nailed to the forest floor beneath me. My eyes burn painfully, but the tears to soothe them won't fall.

All I can do is stare, watching the small, innocent girl lies on the dirt and leaves, her eyes still open, as the hovercraft appears from nowhere, roughly snatching up her body and pulling it inside –

I'm wrenched back into the train car by the sound of a loud, ear piercing scream, and for a moment, I think its Rue, the echo of her last call for help. A call I couldn't get to fast enough.

I press my palms forcefully over my ears, trying to drown out the sound, to make it go away, when I realize it's not Rue screaming – it's me. _I'm_ the only person screaming.

I put one hand over my mouth, clamping it shut so I can no longer shout, and the world slowly settles back into place.

I'm shaking, my entire body quivering as if I'm in the middle of a snowy field as opposed to the warm room on the train that takes Peeta and me from District to District. My face is wet, and I realize that I'm crying hard, my dream having been so real. _Of course, it _was_ real. Rue really did die; I was simply remembering._

Half of me wants to scream again, or at least bury my face in my pillow and let the racking sobs consume me, but the door to my room slowly slides open, and I bite my lip, eyes locked on who is coming to tell me to shut up.

The face I see is the only one that could bring me comfort at that moment – the only person who was there in the arena with me, who know exactly what I went through.

He silently enters, climbing into my bed next to me. He doesn't hesitate to open his arms to me in comfort, and I fly into their warmth and reassurance at once, allowing myself a moment to be weak in front of him. He holds me close, rocking me slightly back and forth, whispering in my ear.

Once I'm able to contain my pain, I pull it all in, pushing it down so that I can be composed in front of him. I only succeed in controlling myself the pitiful amount I do by promising myself I can break down again later, when I'm alone."Thank you," I whisper, neither of us lets go of the other.

He runs his fingers over my braided hair, falling out after a long night of thrashing. His blue eyes locked on mine, and even in the darkness, I can see the adoration in them. Even when I'm weak, even when I fall to pieces in front of him, he still loves me.

"I don't get it," I mumble, sniffling.

"What?"

"Why you look at me like that," I explain, voice hushed. "Even when I'm crying like a child, you still manage to look at me like…" my throat tightens from some emotion I know I don't want to put a name to, and he waits, wanting to hear me say it.

"Look at you like what, Katniss?" he presses kindly, one hand weaving its way through my own.

"Like… you love me," I finish breathlessly, looking down at my hand in his so I don't have to see those eyes intently on mine anymore. I know it looks pathetic, but I'm exhausted, and, frankly, this emotional confusion isn't helping my fatigued mind.

"Because I _do_ love you," he says simply.

I stare harder at our knotted fingers, wishing I could find some inspiration for how to respond to the words I so obviously set him up to say. A part of me whispers that I _wanted_ to hear them, but the thought is a little confusing. But I do feel like my heart is pumping faster, but I tell myself it's just the nightmare. Something like that is more than enough to get my blood racing. I repeat to myself that it has nothing to do with the boy who is currently holding me.

After a long moment of silence in which my mind is reeling, trying to find a way to respond, he finally ends the tangible quiet with a question I don't have to search for the answer to.

"What was your dream about?"

"Rue," I tell him, voice soft. "The day she died."

He nods, this having been a reoccurring dream, especially since I went to District 11, just a few days ago. He may not have known Rue very well, but he knows me well enough to know I saw my sister in the girl. "She's in a better place now," he tells me, and for some reason, that makes me angry.

"How do you know that?" I snap.

"Because what could be worse that being in District 11, or the arena, for that matter?"

My anger cools, and his words comfort me, as they always do. Peeta's always right – he can always console my fears.

"You're right," I tell him. "Sorry."

"Don't be – I'm really not in any position to say what's best for her."

I shake my head, pulling out of his arms so I don't have to tilt my head to see his face. My body is cold when it's not snuggled against his, and those mesmerizing eyes are still locked on mine.

And before I know what's happening, my head is slowly moving closer to his, as if some unseen force was pushing us together. My lips touch his, but it's different from the other hundreds of times we've kissed, because I know no one is watching. I have no one to please by kissing him other than the two of us, and something about that makes me feel like this is our first kiss.

My eyes shut, and his palm gently touches my cheek, holding me to him. My heart thumps against my chest like some captured creature, beating against the bars of its cage, and for a second, I fear it might break out. But then Peeta's arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer to him, and I forget all about it.

My hands move on their own accord, twisting through his thick blonde hair, feeling the softness from all our stylist's special conditioners as it slides through my fingers. A quiet sound escapes his lips, and it sounds like a cross between a moan and a sigh. The sound makes my skin burn, and in that moment, two things are made clear to me.

One: I will never again _pretend_ to be in love with Peeta Mellark – every second that we're together will be entirely real for me now.

And, two: I will never be able to be this happy unless I'm in his arms.


End file.
